


Blooms of Rare Souls

by BzzzyB123



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, M/M, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:13:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26745691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BzzzyB123/pseuds/BzzzyB123
Summary: Magic blooms only in rare souls. Even rarer was magic that Bloomed across the skin of the most blessed witches and wizards: Blooms as they were called. Those blessed with such magic bore tattoo-like flora that appeared and faded with the Bloom’s magic, emotions, or life events. They were able to perform feats of magic other wizards couldn’t explain, like creating living plants and animals out of nothing but magic or spells that no other could previously achieved. For that, Blooms were revered by the magical community.Albus Dumbledore was born with a wreath of flora around his neck; it was the first sign that he was destined for greatness.
Relationships: Albus Dumbledore/Gellert Grindelwald
Comments: 3
Kudos: 26





	Blooms of Rare Souls

**Author's Note:**

> I’m not sure exactly where I’m going with this and where I will end, but I’m trying my very hardest to stick within canon, but with so many gaps, it’s a bit difficult to piece together and stay true to characters. My hope is to eventually branch out to Grindelwald’s appearance in 1899 within the first 5-ish chapters (hopefully 5 at the latest). We’ll see. Largely will depend on whether or not you all like this idea really.
> 
> Chapter two is started but needs heavy editing to be what I want it to be. Most OC’s won’t play a major role. At this point, most are just to flush out empty places and provide information.
> 
> See End Notes for a dictionary of sorts. 
> 
> Most Important: FLOWER MEANINGS ARE BASED OFF INDIVIDUAL FLOWER MEANINGS. I’m no flower language expert. By far. I do know the meanings can change depending on what flowers appear with each other.

Albus Dumbledore was born with a wreath of flowers around his neck. Not actual flowers, mind you, but lifelike flower tattoos in a pseudo collar. They swayed to the infant’s innate magic that buzzed beneath his skin. These flowers were the mark of a Bloom, as they were called: individuals born with gardens of flowers decorating their skin. Blooms and their gardens were known to possess powerful magic that manifested in beautiful and mystifying ways. The flowers on their skin could tell the stories and emotions of the Bloom on which they sprouted. In other practices, Blooms and their flowers displayed an aptitude for unique forms of divination, but perhaps their most awe inspiring and rare ability was their ability to create life out of pure magic. Nearly all of the famous herbologists in magical history were Blooms, some said to be able to grow plants out of magic itself. Blooms were also commonly found joyfully creating new spells, crafting potions, and caring for magical creatures. Their magics knew no bounds. For this very reason, Blooms were coveted by Pureblood families. Not only did a Bloom display an abundance of unique magic, but all offspring of a Bloom, created or born, possessed powerful magic.

Kendra Dumbledore’s midwife gasped in elated surprise when she saw the wreathe adorning the infant’s small neck. Blooms were a rare gift in the wizarding world, and for one to be born in Mould-on-the-Wold was a blessing. Once Albus was clean and swaddled into a plush blanket, the midwife placed Kendra’s baby boy into her arms.

“Congratulations, Mrs. Dumbledore,” she said smiling. “On the birth of your Blooming baby boy. I’ll send your husband in on my way out.” With that, the midwife gathered her excess towels and soiled blankets before departing through the bedroom door. No sooner than the door closed, it opened to reveal Kendra’s husband, Percival Dumbledore. She smiled weakly, tired but happy as her husband came to sit beside her, cradling her in his arms as they both gazed down at their baby.

“The midwife says he’s a Bloom,” she announced softly. “Our little Albus is a Bloom.” Percival simply continued to stare down at their child, gaze filled with love.

“Hello, Albus. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he whispered tenderly, moving his hand to stroke the infant’s soft cheek. “You’re the first Bloom in our family since my great-grandfather, my little gift.”

News of Albus’s birth and status spread throughout the magical community of Mould-on-the-Wold like wildfire outside the Dumbledore’s home. The entire village it seemed was eager to meet what they viewed as the village’s blessing. Many neighbors visited with handmade toys, blankets, and clothes. Others brought food for the family or offered to babysit young Albus. To the Dumbledore’s exasperated dismay, they also received proposals of marriage from some of the more ambitious families both inside and outside the village. All were eager to meet the young Bloom and capitalize on the good fortune that was said to follow them.

Of all their visitors, Holly Divinus was perhaps the most memorable, for she was a floriographer, a practitioner of divination that specialized in Blooms and their magical Gardens. While not a Bloom herself, her younger sister was. Her experience with her sister’s gardens as well as her natural prowess in divination made her particular brand of divination incredibly accurate and sought after. She visited the Dumbledore family not out of ambition or allure of what Albus’s Garden could tell her, but rather to provide the family with insight to their Bloom.

She appeared on the Dumbledore’s doorstep, clad in a wildly patterned patchwork skirt that reached her ankles. A knit shawl rested over her shoulders and plain brown blouse. Her graying brown hair was just as wild as her skirt, but her smile was kind and eyes soft. She knocked on the door to the Dumbledore’s home, adjusting the small basket on her arm as she waited. Once she was invited into the house and had Percival and Kendra’s permission to do a reading, Holly delicately cradled Albus in her arms and began to examine the flowers that decorated his small neck.

“Well?” Kendra asked anxiously. Whether she was anxious for the reading or for her child to be in a stranger’s arms was unclear. “What do you see?”

Holly hummed thoughtfully, a curious expression crossing her face. “Albus is his name, yes? Yes, a very apt name. ‘Bright’, your little Albus has a very bright future ahead of him.” Any tension held in Kendra and Percival visibly fled with the floriographer’s words. As they did so, Holly pointed to uniquely shaped leaves in the wreath, motioning for the young parents to look closer.

“These are ferns. They’re rare amongst Blooms, and they have many meanings: sincerity, a secret bond of love, and fascination to name a few. But we rarely see it sprout this young. Who knows though; maybe he’ll have a deep and intense romance in his future.” Holly smiled at the parents with spritely mirth.

“I don’t think that’s the case though. Ferns can also mean magic. Because all Blooms are witches and wizards, we rarely see ferns bloom on their skin. My bet is that your Albus has an abundance of magical talent, even for a Bloom. These-” she gestured to a cluster of pentagonal, white-pink flowers. “-mean renown, success, or ambition. Combined with the fern, I’d say your Albus will be well-known for his magic someday. The flowers are called ‘laurel’, by the way.”

Holly turned her gaze back to Albus’s neck, examining the wreath from a different angle. She gestured to the oddly-shaped purple flowers woven into the wreath. “A charming boy, this one. These, purple irises, they mean eloquence or wisdom. Both highly desired and respected amongst wizards, let alone a child. But be cautious!” she paused looking both Kendra and Percival in the eye. “The latter comes at a price. If these do indeed mean wisdom, your Albus will know hardship I guarantee.”

With one last intent gaze, holding both parents’ eyes, Holly gestured to the last flower, a collection of tiny white blossoms that looked similar to sparks and fireworks. “This one is the most peculiar. Queen Anne’s Lace means sanctuary.”

“Sanctuary?” Percival, who had been silent up until that point in the reading, wrinkled his brow in confusion. 

“Hmm yes. It could mean he creates a sanctuary for others someday. It could mean he becomes a sanctuary to another. Perhaps it means he finds sanctuary in a place or person. It’s hard to say. Like the fern, we rarely see it in Blooms,” the floriographer answered with a minute shrug. She smiled down sweetly at the sleeping infant, bouncing him gently before slipping him carefully back into his mother’s arms.

“Regardless, I see a bright future for your boy. I’d love to read his petals, but he’s still too young for that. Those flowers will stay with him for his entire life. Here-” Holly pulled a brightly wrapped package from her basket, handing it to Percival. “May it have some use to you.”

Holly rose from her seat, gathering her coat and basket before smiling at the young family. “Congratulations for the birth of your son. You are truly blessed to have a Bloom as a first born.” Holly left soon after, shown out by Percival who offered her a heartfelt thank you and smile. He then returned to his wife and unwrapped the floriographer’s gift.

Underneath the brightly coloured paper was a book with _A Complete Guide to Blooms and Their Gardens_ printed onto the cover. Flipping through the pages, Percival noted that it contained information about Bloom-specific magic and its manifestations as well as an encyclopedia of flowers and their meanings, complete with colorful drawings. It was a thoughtful and valuable gift that Percival knew would become well loved. Setting the book down, he turned back to his wife. They shared a joyful smile, their hearts filled with excitement for their boy’s seemingly prosperous future.

The Dumbledores were not the only ones to rejoice; the entire village did, despite Holly’s reading staying between Percival and Kendra. The wizards of Mould-on-the-Wold doted on Albus. Many villagers would stop by the house if they noticed a newly toddling Albus in the family garden or would approach the family if they caught sight of him in the market. Some would bring books to give the now toddler, a favorite of Albus’s; others would simply chat with him or his parents. They all seemed to dote on his long, soft red hair which his parents had allowed to grow in order to hide the flower wreath on his neck from the muggle occupants of their small village. Despite all the gifts and attention, Albus never seemed to spoil, to the relief of his parents; he grew into a soft-spoken, curious but gentle child who was slow to anger. As with all other Blooms, flowers budded and blossomed across his skin: daisies, freesia, chrysanthemums, white lilacs, and ranunculus all came and went.

* * *

  
When Kendra and Percival announced their expectation of a second child, the village became alight with excitement and anticipation. The Dumbledore’s firstborn was a Bloom;their second born would likely receive the same blessing! As with Albus’s birth, Kendra and Percival were showered with congratulations and offers to watch their young Bloom as they prepared for another child. Of the entire village however, Albus was perhaps the most excited. It filled Percival and Kendra’s hearts with love and mirth when their little boy toddled after them like a duckling, trying to help with chores and bringing his mother toys, blankets, and books for his incoming sibling. 

As Albus’s sibling’s birth drew near, Percival sent Albus to stay with Percival’s sister, Honoria Dumbledore. Albus went without a fit, but his father could clearly see the disappointment in his eyes at the thought of missing his sibling’s arrival. The birth came and went without a hitch, and Kendra and Percival were blessed with a healthy baby boy who had no flowers adorning his skin. While the wizarding community of their village was disappointed, Percival and Kendra were perfectly happy, loving both their children with all their hearts.

The couple soon realized that Aberforth was very different from his brother. He was more prone to crying and tantrums where Albus was slow to either. Aberforth prefered toys and play where Albus prefered books. Aberforth loved to be held, especially by Albus, but Percival suspected that was because Aberforth had taken a particular liking to his brother’s long red hair, much to Albus’s displeasure. As soon as Aberforth was walking, he was running and toddling after his brother. Strangely enough, Aberforth didn’t initiate or care to play with Albus, but he liked to be in the same room. As a result, Aberforth grew easily jealous of his brother; passing wizards and witches doted on Albus as they had prior to Aberforth’s birth, but tended to ignore Aberforth, even if he was right beside Albus. It lead to many a tantrum and fight between the brothers, as Aberforth demanded and monopolized the attention of their parents. Albus, in turn, became jealous of his brother. Before he knew it, anemones joined the Garden flowing across his skin.

Soon enough, Kendra and Percival announced their third pregnancy. Mould-on-the-Wold did not flock to the Dumbledores as they had done previously, but that didn’t bother the parents. Like with their previous children, they were overjoyed to have another child. Albus and Aberforth were both eager to meet their new sibling. Once again, Percival sent his sons to stay with his sister as the birth neared, and Kendra delivered a beautiful baby girl.

Like her older brother Aberforth, Ariana Dumbledore was born without flowers on her skin. Her family adored her nonetheless. Percival and Kendra doted on her in ways they couldn’t with their sons. Aberforth was smitten with her even when she was an infant. Where Ariana was, Aberforth was never far behind. Albus tried to read to her, but books never held Ariana’s attention. Ariana loved tracing the flowers that bloomed over her brother’s skin however. It caused hydrangeas to appear in his garden: love of all kinds.

They were happy, the Dumbledores. They were blessed with few troubles and nothing in the same magnitude other families experienced. The most of their troubles came from Percival and Kendra chasing away suitors and proposing families (“He’s ten for Merlin’s sake!”). Albus’s Garden continued to blossom and flourish; at times, he barely had any visible skin with the sheer number of plants, a sign the wizarding community took at fortuitous. He seemed as taken with his studies as he was his books. This became apparent as Percival and Kendra began to teach Albus how to read, write, and some basic maths. In contrast, Aberforth seemed bored and disinterested in studying. He preferred tending to the family’s small farm. He’d taken a particular liking to the goats; Percival frequently scolded him for slipping extra food to them. Ariana continued to be loved and cherished by her family. She’d only just begun her studies compared to her brothers, but their mother also had taken to showing Ariana other skills such as gardening, sewing, and embroidery. To Kendra’s surprise, Albus had taken to joining his mother and sister for these lessons. He showed little interest in most of what they did, but he seemed to develop a fondness for knitting.

* * *

Bloom magic always manifested in strange ways, fortunately or unfortunately. On one fine spring day, six-year-old Ariana mapped the flowers decorating Albus’s skin, tracing them with gentle fingers.

“What’s this one, Albus?” she asked, stroking the flowers she’d found on his shoulder blade. Albus hummed softly, glancing at her over his shoulder.

“I don’t know, Ari. I’ll have to look.” He rose swiftly, striding across the room to a bookshelf, and plucked a book off the shelf. He returned to Ariana and handed her the well-worn book with the words _A Complete Guide to Blooms and Their Gardens_ emblazoned on the cover in faded letters.

“Why don’t you find it, Ariana?” Albus asked gently. “I can’t see it, but if you can find a picture that looks like the flower, I’ll read it to you.”

Ariana nodded excitedly, already flipping through the pages to search for the identity of mysterious blossom. Their mother entered the room not too long after with a basket of goods from the market on her arm. She scowled at the scene, sending a scolding look Albus’s way.

“Put your shirt on, Albus! You’re no longer a child; in a year, you’ll be attending Hogwarts! You can’t take your shirt off whenever it pleases you. It’s inappropriate!”

Albus wilted under her scolding. “Ariana was just looking at my blossoms again, Mum. Plus, she found a new flower. I’ll put my shirt on when she finds it in the book.”

Kendra pursed her lips in a thin frown, striding across the room to the attached kitchen, where she set her basket down. She then joined her children in the living room.

“Where is this blossom?”

“Right here, Mum,” Ariana chimed, tapping the flower. “Do you know it?”

In the corner of his eye, Albus saw his mother shake her head minutely, reaching out to touch the unknown flower as she examined it. Ariana returned to the book to continue her search. After a few moments of silence, she paused.

“I think this is it, Mum.” Ariana handed the book to her mother who compared the flower on Albus’s skin to the drawing in the book. Albus felt his mother stiffen, prompting him to look at her over his shoulder. He continued to watch her, noting her unease.

“Well,” Ariana asked impatiently. “Is that the flower?”

“Yes,” Kendra answered shakily. “Begonia.” She inhaled just as shakily before offering an uneasy smile to Ariana.

“Ariana, would you please be a dear and fetch your father? Tell him Albus has a new bloom, and Mummy wants him to see it.”

“But-”

“Please, Ariana.” Kendra’s voice left no room for argument. Ariana huffed before going to retrieve her father.

Once she disappeared from the room, Albus asked in a soft nervous voice, “What does it mean, Mum?”

Kendra gnawed at her lip for a few moments before answering hoarsely.

“Beware.”

* * *

  
One week later, three muggle boys viciously assaulted Ariana after they witnessed her performing underage, accidental magic.

  
One week later, Ariana was carried— unconscious, bloody, bruised, and broken— in the cradle of her weeping father’s arms.

* * *

The event left the family in shock. Kendra was virtually despondent; tears streamed down her face unpredictably. She was the one to heal her daughter’s tiny broken body, even as her own body wracked with sobs. Aberforth was in a state of great despair, sobbing and crying, trying to fight his way out of his father’s arms and to Ariana’s side. Albus, like his mother, was shocked into despondency. Silent tears leaked from shining blue eyes, but he did not make a sound or move a muscle. He felt paralysed in confusion, shock, and overwhelming sorrow. Percival’s silent tears were the only sign of his suffering as he held his boys in his arms, allowing his wife to help their daughter. In his eyes, however, if one looked close enough, lingered a simmering and burning rage. They all waited with bated breath and desperate hope for Ariana to wake.

When she did, she was hysterical. Ariana screamed herself hoarse, tears flooding her soft cheeks and sobs wracking her little frame as she struggled to breathe. Her wide, blue eyes gazed at them unseeing, filled with unadulterated terror. She screamed out for Aberforth, for Albus, for her Mummy, and for her Daddy in her inconsolable hysterics. No matter how hard they tried to console her and reassure her that she was safe, she did not calm; it was as if she couldn’t hear or see them. Touching her only seemed to increase her panic and caused her to lash out at them. It broke the family’s hearts to see her in such a state.

When she finally cried herself to sleep, Percival and Kendra tucked her into her sheets once more and herded their boys out of the room. Once in the living room, Percival took Aberforth into his arms once more and allowed the boy to sob uglily into his chest. Albus found himself doing the same into his mother’s embrace. He felt devastated but numb at the same time. He didn’t notice the marigolds sprouting above his heart, a flower that would soon cover nearly his entire body in the coming months.

Ariana’s episodes continued over the weeks that followed. Honoria Dumbledore soon became a fixture in the house, there to help with the boys, as Percival and Kendra exhausted themselves in their struggle to care for both the boys and a traumatized Ariana. As the weeks progressed, Ariana had more frequent and longer periods of calm between her hysterical episodes. Kendra was the only one who seemed to be able to soothe, calm, and touch the young girl, although Honoria had some luck in doing so as well; anytime Albus, Aberforth, or Percival tried, Ariana’s fits only became more and more hysterical and panicked.

Magic seemed to also increase her hysterics. Anytime Kendra, Percival, or Honoria tried to use magic in the home, it triggered Ariana into another episode. Soon, the family no longer used magic in front of Ariana, barring accidental magic performed by any of the children. When Ariana’s episodes became particularly bad, her own magic would lash out and destroy her surroundings. Sadly, it only caused her more distress. It tore Percival and Kendra apart to see their daughter afraid of her own magic. Honoria begged them to get help, to take her to St. Mungo’s or somewhere else to get help, but Kendra and Percival refused, fearing that if they did, Ariana would be locked up in a hospital for the rest of her life.

Ariana’s episodes still occurred daily, even weeks later as spring turned to summer. She often had nightmares that would wake her and trigger the episodes. Albus and Percival still couldn’t touch her, but Aberforth had more luck as time moved by. She became more present around the house but little more than a pale ghost. She’d watch Albus knit in the living room; he’d taken to making her blankets, sweaters, and socks. She’d watch Aberforth from the window as he took care of the goats. She watched Kendra cook and Honoria clean. She’d listen to her father read aloud in the living room with Albus beside him, both watching her, hoping she’d join (she never did).

Albus’s marigolds still bloomed across his skin, taking the place of where his freesias frequently bloomed. The few freesias that remained wilted, their petals falling from his skin and onto the earth wherever Albus went. It was a first for him; normally the flowers of his Garden would sprout and grow into flowers before simply fading away. They’d never wilted before. Somehow, he knew that the freesias would never return once the last had wilted from his skin. Unknown to him, begonia once again bloomed amongst the marigolds that sprouted along his spine. 

Just like with her attack out of the blue and during one of her episodes, Ariana erupted into a destructive, dark cloud in August. It left rooms wrecked and any living thing in its path dead. It lashed out on its own accord, targeting everyone and no one simultaneously. Luckily, Honoria was able to grab the two remaining Dumbledore children and apparate them to the safety of her own home. Percival and Kendra stayed behind to try and soothe their wayward daughter. As soon as Ariana returned to her humanoid shape, she promptly collapsed into a fitful sleep. Dutifully, Percival and Kendra carried her to bed and set to work repairing the devastated house. 

Soon, Percival returned to his sister’s estate to retrieve Albus and Aberforth with a haunted yet stern look on his face and rage boiling in his eyes. Honoria greeted him at the door, ushering him into her parlor to avoid waking her slumbering nephews in the other end of the house. She begged her brother to send Ariana away, to send her to St. Mungo’s as she had months before, stating that Ariana’s state put the entire family in danger and that the girl needed help. Percival loudly argued against it, shouting that false beliefs about Ariana’s health, claiming she only needed to be with her family, and that she would get better in time. Honoria was speechless by the end of it and could only sit, listless, as her brother woke his sons and took them home with them, back to the seemingly cursed household. Bitterly, she watched her brother vanish and reflected on her ill-fated family.

For all they were “blessed” from the nephew’s garden, it seemed like they had been cursed instead.

* * *

Soon after arriving back home, Percival put the boys to bed. He then returned to his distraught wife and took her in his arms in a tight embrace. For what seemed like an endless amount of time, the couple stood like this, rocking back and forth and taking comfort in the other. When they departed from their embrace, Kendra shuffled into their bedroom, leaving Percival alone in the living room. Despondently, he stared at the photos placed around the room: family portraits through time, wedding photos, and a small photo of their children. He took in the face of his stubborn Aberforth who frowned in most photographs. His gaze shifted to gentle Albus’s face, expression soft and eyes twinkling even in the image. Finally, he looked at Ariana’s smiling face, a ray of light between her brothers’. How Percival missed that expression, in all its freedom and joy.

His eyes then sluggishly turned to the wedding band adorning his finger. He and Kendra had always considered themselves fortunate to have a ring each, a matching pair together. His ring was a dull, thin band of gold. Swirls of leaves and wildflowers were engraved around the entire band with no beginning or end. It and its twin had been passed down the Dumbledore family for generations, cherished by all its wearers. To Percival, the engravings always reminded him of his blooming Albus and the flowers that adorned his skin. A small trickle of an idea entered his mind, a deceptively cool pool amongst boiling rage.

Percival removed the precious ring from his finger and set it on a table. He drew his wand and began to mutter quiet spells, weaving them into a complex fabric of enchantments, tying them to the ring with the utmost care. After a lengthy time, he sheathed his wand and delicately lifted the ring into his hands, examining it. It physically remained unchanged, but Percival could feel the number of spells embedded within it. With the ring in hand, he joined his wife in their bedroom and allowed himself one last night of peaceful dreams.

In the morning, Percival and Kendra upheld their morning routine of cooking and waking the children to have a family meal together. Aberforth, Albus, and Ariana were all still visibly exhausted from the previous day’s events as they nibbled on their breakfast. Afterward, Kendra bid Albus and Aberforth to help clear the table and dishes. Percival swiftly intervened, pulling Albus aside and into the boy’s room, calling a promise to Kendra that he’d return Albus to her swiftly. Once alone, Percival knelt down to be eye level with his son and held his gaze.

“Albus,” Percival began softly. “I need you to keep a secret. Can you do that?”

Albus furrowed his brow, uneasy and confused. “I don’t know. What kind of secret?”

Percival smiled, one of sickly false reassurance. “This conversation needs to stay between you and me. It’ll be our secret; not even your mother can know about it.”

Albus nodded, relaxing slightly with his brow still furrowed. Percival took this as permission to continue forward.

“There’s a chance Dad will need to go away for awhile, but he doesn’t want to leave you all alone or unprotected if he does.”

“But where will you be going?” Albus asked in alarm.

“Shh,” Percival hushed gentle. “That isn’t important important, but I want to give you something.” He held out the ring he’d enchanted the night before to Albus, who looked between the ring and his father nervously. “It’ll keep you safe when I’m not around. I need you to wear it, Albus. I need you to wear it and never take it off. I need you to be safe, my beautiful Bloom.”

It was a low blow to call Albus that, Percival knew. Albus was so rarely called it, but he desperately needed Albus to agree. Slowly and tensely, Albus gave a single nod, reaching out to take the ring from his father. His father didn’t let him and instead grasped Albus’s wrist in a gentle firm grip. He then slid the delicate gold band into place. It then shrank to fit the child’s considerably smaller finger.

Albus stumbled forward, the magic of the ring washing over him. He felt so tired, so exhausted, so hazy; he couldn’t think. He was too tired to notice his Garden fading bit by bit from his skin. As it did, he failed to notice the newest flower appear on his wrist, cyclamen, and promptly shimmer away with the rest of his Garden. Like the Garden, the ring also shimmered into invisibility. His father caught him in his arms, capturing the boy in a loving embrace. Percival cradled the boy in his arms, humming softly and rocking until he felt Albus drift into the magically induced slumber.

Percival tucked his son into his bed, caressing the red locks from Albus’s face with a loving gaze. “I’m so sorry, Albus. But it will keep you safe. They won’t seek you out like this; they can’t hurt you like they did your sister.”

His voice was a broken whisper. Unshed tears glistened in his eyes. Percival leaned down and delivered one last kiss to his slumbering child’s brow before silently leaving the room. He mumbled to his wife that Albus was unwell and resting in his room before completing Albus’s chores himself and ignoring Kendra’s look of exhausted concern. He then sought out Aberforth for a similarly cryptic goodbye.

“Aberforth,” he started, taking Aberforth gently by the shoulders. “I need you to be brave and strong for me. Can you do that?”

Aberforth, just as uneasy as his brother was earlier, nodded. He gripped a broom in his hands as he had been sweeping the entryway prior to Percival’s arrival.

“Good lad, my boy,” Percival offered with a smile. “Dad’s going to go out for a bit, but it may take me longer than I intend it to. I need you to watch over the house while I’m away. Take care of your mother and sister. Take care of Albus too. Can you do that for me?”

Aberforth nodded again and groused under his breath about how Albus could take care of himself. Percival huffed a laugh and tugged Aberforth into an awkward hug, the broom caught between them.

“Thank you,” Percival whispered into Aberforth’s ear before releasing the boy. “No run along and help your mother. Albus wasn’t feeling well and is resting in his room.” Aberforth groused some more about his brother under his breath as he did what he was told. Percival watched him go, before sweeping through the front door and disappearing from the property, purpose evident in his step.

* * *

When Albus awoke, he was confused. A haze seemed to linger over his mind, clouding his thoughts. He slowly sat up, noting that it was dark in his room. As soon as he was upright, he doubled over as a spell of nausea assaulted him. He groaned, breathing raggedly as he waited for the nausea to abate. After a few moments, it eased but still lingered with the haze over his mind. Mustering enough determination, Albus eased himself off the bed in an attempt to stand. A dizzy spell hit him almost instantaneously. He paused before stumbling across the room to reach the door. All the while, he felt like a swarm of bees were buzzing under his skin, angry and itching to escape. While it didn’t worsen his nausea, it definitely didn’t help it either.

It took what felt like a decade for Albus to reach the door and fumble with the knob. When he finally managed to open the door, foreign voices reached his ears. Frowning, he stumbled closer to investigate. He had to lean against the wall to stave off the dizziness when he finally reached the entryway. As his vision cleared, he saw three men shepherding his father out the door. Aberforth was trying to kick his way to his father, shouting at them to leave his Dad alone, held back by his mother. She had a look of shock and horror on her face. Her foggy gaze was fixated on her husband and the men surrounding him. Ariana was missing from the scene, so Albus assumed she was hidden away in her room. Although he could see everything as it transpired, his foggy brain struggled to process it.

“Mum,” Albus slurred in confusion, trying to understand what was happening and failing. His mother’s gaze snapped to him, startled but assessing. She still held a struggling Aberforth in her arms.

“Albus?” she returned questioningly. Her gaze didn’t remain empty, however; as she gazed at her eldest son, shock quickly overtook her face. Albus frowned, turning to look at his father and the unknown men. He didn’t understand what was happening.

“Dad? Where are you going?”

“No! Dad! You can’t take him! We need him! Please don’t take Dad away! Please! Argh! Let me go! Let me go! Please! Dad!” It took Albus a moment to realize that it was not his mother who responded but Aberforth. Albus’s eyes widened, staring at his father. His father looked at him with a sad smile before sending it to Aberforth.

“Keep your promise, Ab. I’m trusting you. Take care of them.” With that, the three men pushed Percival out of the house and disappeared with the slam of a door.

“Dad?” Albus asked. Only Aberforth’s sobs responded.

* * *

  
Albus’s strange and sudden illness lasted nearly a week. He struggled to function and remember anything for the entire duration of it. It had felt like he was moving through mud when he tried to walk or think. Albus vaguely could recall his mother’s concerned presence and Honoria’s teary face. After the week had come and gone, Albus still didn’t feel right. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but something was wrong with him; those blasted buzzing bees remained under his skin, leaving Albus with an itch he could never scratch.

Albus couldn’t figure out what was off until he looked in the mirror. He had just finished recovering when he glimpsed his reflection. Where the wreath of ferns, laurel, irises, and Queen Anne’s Lace had once been was now pale skin. In shock, Albus frantically searched his body for any trace of his Garden, tearing at his clothes when they got in the way. When he couldn’t find a single flower or fern, Albus screamed in panic.

“Mum!” Gasping breaths raggedly escaped his lips. He could vaguely hear the thumping of startled feet rushing towards him. With the slam of the door against the bathroom wall, Kendra appeared with Honoria and Aberforth close behind.

“I can’t find my flowers! Where is my Garden? I can’t find my flowers!” Albus babbled hysterically, tears leaking from his eyes. His mother rushed to his side, taking him in her arms, and rocking him.

“Shh,” she hushed, trying to soothe Albus’s sharp sobs. Aberforth looked on in horror, unused to his brother’s tears and bare skin. He didn’t know what to do or how to comfort Albus.

“Kendra,” Honoria whispered solemnly, kneeling down beside her nephew and sister-in-law. “Kendra, we need to get Albus some help. If you won’t help Ariana, at least help Albus. This isn’t natural for Blooms.”

“No, no,” she responded lightly, Albus hiccuping in her arms. “It’s okay. He’ll be okay. We’ll take care of him. He’ll be fine.”

“Kendra,” Honoria asserted, much sterner. “Albus could be dangerously ill. For the last week, we could barely get Albus to wake. This could only get worse, Kendra. I know you just lost your husband-” Kendra flinched. “-Do you really want to lose your son too?”

“We’ll be fine. He’s already getting better. He’s awake and eating. Everything will turn out alright,” Kendra answered just as sternly. Honoria, appalled by what she was hearing, left the mother and son be, fleeing the room in search of calm. Aberforth watched her go before he returned his gaze to his mother and brother.

The tension between Honoria and Kendra was palpable in the days that followed. Honoria stiffly performed the household chores and errands, and Kendra tended to her children. She barely let Honoria any time alone with Albus, Aberforth, and Ariana, afraid her sister-in-law would steal them away. The children were distraught at the loss of their father, although Albus still struggled to understand what happened. Ariana’s fits still plagued the family which only increased the tension between Honoria and Kendra.

A week after Albus’s shocking discovery, Honoria was heading out to the market before Aberforth stopped her. He clutched her arm tightly, leaning up towards her as much as he could in his eight-year-old body before delivering a harsh whisper.

“Take Albus with you. Please, help him.” He paused. “There’s a healer six houses down. I’ll distract, Mum.” With that, Aberforth disappeared into the house.

Honoria exhaled sharply, not realizing she’d been holding her breath. Hurriedly, she retrieved Albus from his chores and ushered him out the door. It did not take them long to reach the healer’s home. Honoria guided Albus to the door— ignoring his confused inquiries— and knocked on the door. The door was opened brusquely after a few moments as a portly woman came into view.

“Can I help you, Miss Dumbledore?” the woman’s tone sounded annoyed in contrast to her innocuous words.

“We need to see a healer,” Honoria responded with little grace, inching forward.

“We don’t offer our services to scum. Whatever your family needs is obviously a result of your tainted blood,” the woman spat with a snarl. Albus flinched away, but wisely said nothing.

When the woman began to close the door, Honoria desperately called out to her. “You’ll deny aid to a Bloom? It’s Albus who needs a healer.”

“Aunt Honoria!” Albus exclaimed softly. The closing door paused, opening once more to reveal the woman’s sceptical gaze.

“What’s wrong with him?”

Honoria eyes searched the yard nervously, aware of the curious neighbors watching. “I’d prefer if we did this inside, madam.”

“What’s wrong with the boy?” the woman repeated, irritated.

“I’m hardly going to have him undress here in your yard to show you what ails him. May we kindly take this inside?” Honoria fiercely exclaimed. The woman in the door relented, stepping inside with a silent invitation. She led them into a small room at the back of the house and motioned for them to sit on the plush chairs found there. She left soon after to retrieve her husband. A man entered the room in a manner of minutes. He lacked any animosity his wife seemed to hold for them as he greeted them humbly.

“What seems to be the issue? My wife mentioned that something ailed young Albus, is that right?”

“Yes,” Honoria confirmed urgently. “The day my brother was—” she cut herself off. “Two weeks ago, Albus became suddenly and severely ill with no warning. He had a fever, shivers, chills, and slept more often than not. A week after that, he seemed to recover, but his Garden disappeared. I’ve never heard of a Bloom’s Garden vanishing— it doesn’t happen!”

The doctor gazed at Albus in alarm. “His Garden? Disappeared? Why in the name of Merlin hasn’t he been taken St. Mungo’s? This is unheard of!”

“His mother refuses, tells me he’s fine,” Honoria answered bitterly. “She doesn’t even know he’s here.”

The healer clenched his jaw, visibly upset. He turned to Albus and spoke gently. “Albus, do you mind if I take a look at you?”

Albus looked to his aunt for guidance; she nodded in encouragement. Albus mirrored the gesture.

“Alright. First I’m going to ask you a few questions, all right?” the healer proceeded to ask Albus questions about his health and how he was feeling, taking note of the boy’s answers. Afterwards, he examined Albus’s skin, asking about its sensitivity and the hallmarks of his Garden. Finally, the healer cast a diagnostic spell and pondered over the results. The man’s brow furrowed before moving his gaze to his patient.

“Albus, may I see your hand?” he asked, offering a hand. Albus hesitantly placed his hand in the healer’s. The healer promptly pointed his wand at the appendage and whispered, “Revelio.”

An engraved gold band appeared on Albus’s finger. Albus and Honoria’s eyes widened in shock. The healer carefully examined the ring before muttering a spell and slipping the ring from Albus’s finger.

Magic flooded Albus almost instantly, causing him to gasp and stumble, eyes unseeing. The buzzing bees under his skin burst forth, but it did not hurt nor were there any bees to begin with. It was only magic. Albus felt free for the first time since his father’s arrest, as if he were breathing fresh air for the first time. He smiled, drunk on the liberating feeling of his magic unrestrained. Across his skin bloomed his Garden. The wreath on his neck was barely visible under the chaotic mess of marigolds, anemones, cyclamen, myrtles, and yellow roses. It seemed Albus’s face was the only ounce of skin left uncovered by his Garden.

The healer breathed a sigh of relief, setting the ring on a nearby table and examining Albus once more. Finding the boy healthy, if with an unusual amount of magic hovering around him, the healer turned to examine the ring.

“That’s my brother’s ring. It’s been in the family for years,” Honoria offered, turning to Albus hesitantly. “Albus, why do you have your dad’s ring?”

Albus’s brow furrowed as he skimmed through muddled memories. “Dad… gave it to me? Said it would… said it would protect me. I think.”

“All right. Thank you, my boy.” She gently took him in her arms. Whether she was seeking to comfort him or herself was unclear. The healer hummed an answer to Albus’s response.

“I’m no curse breaker, but I don’t think the ring is cursed. If anything, it appears to hold a glamour spell, maybe a protection spell or two, but nothing of cruel intent.”

“Then why did it affect Albus in such away? Why did he get sick?”

The healer pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Bloom magic is an extraordinary thing. It can do many things, but hiding isn’t one of them. I’ve heard rumors of Blooms who tried to hide their Gardens in order to avoid persecution from muggles.” He paused here, rubbing his eyes and breathing raggedly.

“They tried spells, potions, injury, and in extreme cases, cutting the flowers from their skin. It— nothing— as far as anyone is aware, nothing could hide the Gardens. Spells and potions had no effect. In some cases, they’d leave the Bloom severely ill, but the reasons or in what ways were never documented. Injuries and other physical attempts to remove the flowers had temporary affect. The flowers would vanish when the injury was there, but returned once it healed.”

Honoria swallowed. “So how is that ring hiding Albus’s Garden. And what will happen to Albus if he keeps wearing it?”

The healer shook his head. “I don’t know. There’s not anything like this that has been documented before. Regardless, I wouldn’t encourage you to keep wearing this ring, Albus. Nothing good comes from a Bloom hiding their magic. The same goes for any witch or wizard, really.”

Honoria graciously thanked the man, taking her brother’s ring into her pocket as she ushered Albus out of the house. Honoria would wait until they were home to confront her sister-in-law about this. She dearly hoped Kendra did not know anything about the ring, but she had her doubts. Taking a grounding breath, Honoria softly tugged Albus towards the market. They still had errands to run.

Their time at the market was a disaster. Although the duo managed to buy the groceries and other household supplies they needed, they were accosted at every shop and stall. Villagers and journalists alike bludgeoned them with questions about Percival’s arrest, how they felt about his attack on the muggle boys, there recollection of events, and other questions Albus thought they had no business asking. Some of the villagers were incredibly rude as well, trying to overcharge his aunt for their goods or throwing snide looks and remarks. Never before had Albus witnessed the villagers being this cruel.

After they left, Albus stopped, tugging on his aunt’s sleeve.

“What did they mean about dad?”

Honoria sighed shakily. “Your dad did something very wrong, Albus. He attacked and seriously injured the boys who hurt your sister, so aurors came and took him away.”

Albus paused, horrified at his father’s actions but stifled the sudden onslaught of emotion.

“But why do they treat you so poorly? You didn’t do anything!”

Honoria’s gaze softened slightly. “I don’t know, Albus. I really don’t know.” With that, the two continued on their way home. When they walked through the door, Kendra panicked.

“Albus! Where have you been? Your garden! Albus you weren’t supposed to—”

“Kendra,” Honoria barked, shooting Kendra a hard stare. “Albus, please take our baskets to the kitchen. Your mother and I need to have a chat.”

“Yes, Aunt Honoria.” As Albus departed, Honoria nearly dragged her sister-in-law into Kendra’s bedroom, casting a silencing spell behind them. She then whirled on the mother, clutching Percival’s ring before her.

“Did you know about this? Did you know my brother gave this to Albus?” Kendra’s bit her lip in response, guilt heavy in her eyes.

“I don’t believe— this is the reason your son was sick, Kendra! It’s not healthy to stifle a Bloom’s magic, let alone a child’s! Look what it did to your daughter!”

“That ring keeps Albus safe!” Kendra burst out with equal fire. “Hiding his garden keeps him safe from people looking to take him! He needs it to be safe!”

“You’re paranoid!”

The women argued into the late hours of the evening, never once leaving the room. Albus and Aberforth took it upon themselves to cook dinner, as no matter how much they knocked, no one answered the door to Kendra’s room, and Ariana was starting to get restless in her hunger. Albus took it upon himself to chop and heat vegetables on the stove; Aberforth found a loaf of bread in the cupboards and took to slicing it, albeit clumsily. It was a humble dinner that tasted burnt and bland, but it was enough for the three children.

Afterward, Aberforth ushered Ariana to bed and helped her through her bedtime routine while Albus cleared the table and dishes away. When he was finished, he began his nightly routine. Aberforth joined him soon after Ariana fell asleep. Both boys parted when they settled into their respective rooms for the night. During this time, Honoria stormed out of Kendra’s room and nearly flew out of the house in silent fury. Following the furious woman, Kendra krept out of the room quietly. She solemnly tiptoed to Albus’s room, where she slipped her husband’s ring back onto the sleepy but still conscious boy’s finger.

“Don’t take it off, my boy,” she whispered into his crown. “It’s for your own protection.”

“I don’t want to wear it!” Albus protested softly as to not wake his siblings in the nearby rooms. “It makes me feel weird, wrong!”

“Shh. It’ll be all right. You’ll get used to it,” she whispered in response. 

“But—”

“No, Albus. Do as I say.” Albus stared mutely at the finger that he knew the ring was on, unseen. Tears glittered in his eye, but he refused to let them fall, acquiescing to his mother’s demand forlornly.

* * *

  
The following weeks were littered with torment for the family. The absence of Percival was still felt strongly. Ariana, in her fits, often called for him. Albus and Aberforth were thankful she didn’t see the arrest because they feared it would trigger even more of her episodes if she had. Albus’s Garden remained hidden from sight, concealed by the invisible ring on his finger. His magic still buzzed uncomfortably under his skin and exploded into more outbursts than it had previously, but thankfully none were ever near the scale of Ariana’s. Honoria spent less time at the house, causing Albus and Aberforth to take over more of the chores to accommodate. Journalists, villagers, and the occasional auror accosted them in streets and pounded on their door at all times of day. Kendra sternly turned each and everyone of them away with a few choice words. Unfortunately, by the end of August, the Dumbledore family had isolated themselves inside their own home.

Early in September, a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ was thrown at their doorstep with a dull thunk. Across the front page was a picture of Percival Dumbledore with an inmate number held in front of him; he had been sentenced to life in Azkaban. The article recounted how Percival never gave a peep about his reasons for the attack, cementing his fate in Azkaban and title of “Muggle-hater”. In the fallout of the article, the knocking of visitors on the Dumbledore’s door became more insistent and more frequent. Aggressive questions and insults were thrown through the family’s door and windows. Harsh snarls were thrown at the house by those who passed by. The treatment only increased the frequency of Ariana’s fits, leaving the family exhausted to the bone. Not a week after the incident, the Dumbledores had disappeared from Mould-on-the-Wold without a word to anyone.  
  


* * *

  
Godric’s Hollow was just as quaint a village as Mould-on-the-Wold had been, a perfect new start for the Dumbledore family. As far as the village knew, a new family had taken residence beside Bathilda Bagshot but had yet to be seen outside their home. A terse woman would answer the door when someone knocked, but she never invited anyone inside and ushered visitors away rudely. She was never seen leaving her house, nor did she introduce herself to her visitors. The passerby would occasionally glimpse younger faces in the windows but nothing more. It took a week for someone to leave the house to the excitement of the curious village.

He was a boy no more than ten or eleven with long red hair and bright blue eyes. He carried a large basket with him into the market where he bought foods, fabrics, and other wares, rebuffing attempts at conversation politely. The only thing the villagers could gather about him was his name: Albus. A week after him, a different, younger boy left the house to shop at the market. His eyes were just as blue as Albus’s, but his hair was a medium brown instead of red. He didn’t have the same polite demeanor as his brother and seemed easily annoyed at the villagers’ attempts at conversation. He gave them his name rather brusquely before departing home: Aberforth Dumbledore. The villagers left the family alone soon after, not wanting to associate with the family of the notorious criminal, Percival Dumbledore.

Unseen to the rest of the village, the Dumbledore family continued to live like hermits in the confines of their home. Ariana’s fits seemed to lessen with the move. She had an episode at most twice a week. It allowed her mother and brothers to breathe a sigh of relief. Since Honoria had stopped visiting entirely, Albus and Aberforth took on the chores full time, allowing their mother the time she needed to care for Ariana and cook meals. Albus, for the most part, took care of the home and gardens. Albus had no talent for gardening, much to his displeasure and disappointment; Blooms were known to have a talent for gardening. Their ability to conjure physical seeds and plants was not an ability Albus seemed to possess. Aberforth,on the other hand, had taken to any animal husbandry duties for their small farm near their new home. He had a talent and passion for it, unlike his brother’s own struggles with the family garden. Occasionally, Ariana would follow Aberforth and Albus outside. It gave the family hope, for she had not left the house since her attack in the spring.

Fall turned into winter and winter into spring. The family continued their routine of chores, tutoring, and errands with little trouble. The magic buzzing under Albus’s skin was less noticeable as time moved on but still remained unpleasant. It longed to be free, and Albus sympathized with it. He longed for freedom from the confines of the house. He longed to see the world his books described. Most of all, he longed to be a Bloom, to see the plant-life spread over his skin, to be himself; he felt like he was already forgetting his status as a Bloom. Blank skin was becoming normal to see. The only time he glimpsed his Garden was when hid in his room and removed his ring. How he lived for those small reprieves, cataloging the anemones, myrtle blossoms, cypress, rosemary, and ferns that made their home on his skin.

The day his mother found him doing so was both the best and worst of his life. She was furious, scolding him without abandon, for disregarding his father’s wishes and his own safety. She shouted at him for his selfishness. Honestly, Albus drowned most of it out, a sick feeling churning in his gut. Was it really so wrong to want to feel right? To feel free? Albus obeyed nonetheless. 

Spring turned to summer. With the warm summer sun brought Albus’s birthday and his Hogwarts letter. He was both nervous and excited about it. On one hand, Hogwarts brought him freedom from the confines of the Dumbledore’s home and an environment where magic could be used freely. On the other hand, he’d be surrounded by people his own age, people who knew about his father, who’d scorn him like the villagers of Mould-on-the-Wold did. He’d also be somewhere without his family for the first time in his entire life; it’d be months away from Aberforth and Ariana. He felt a strong sense of duty, of need to be home and help care for everyone as he had been since his father’s arrest. Regardless of his feelings, a few days before term began, Albus bid his goodbyes to his mother and siblings.

“Remember, Albus. Don’t take off your ring,” his mother whispered, hugging him tightly. “You’re going to have so much fun, Albus. I love you.”

After she released him, he turned to his aunt Honoria, grasping her hand. She apparated them out of the home and into the Leaky Cauldron, the inn they’d be staying at until Albus left for Hogwarts. Once there, his aunt took him to Diagon Alley to gather his school supplies. All too soon, they stood on Platform 9 ¾ before the Hogwarts Express. Honoria gave her nephew one last hug and bid him luck as he boarded the train. Honoria waved goodbye as the train pulled out of the station. Albus gazed out the window of the train. Unseen, anemones bloomed beneath the glamour, and for the first time in Albus’s life, they didn’t represent loneliness or despair.

**Author's Note:**

> Bloom: (n). A witch or wizard born with plants tattooed on his or her skin. These flowers will move, wither, blossom, and disappear on their own accord. Blooms are said to contain powerful and unique magic that has creational and divinational properties.
> 
> Blooming: (adj). A descriptor that indicates someone is a Bloom. It can also be used as a title.
> 
> To Bloom: (v). The act of flora appearing, budding, and blossoming on a Bloom’s skin.
> 
> Floriographer: (n). 1. A practitioner of floriography.
> 
> Floriography: (n). 1. The divinary practice of using Bloom magic. This discipline includes unique rituals that require Bloom magic as well as the overall interpretation and knowledge of garden symbolism.
> 
> Garden: (n). When referred to in relationship to a Bloom, a garden refers to the entire collection of plants found on a Bloom’s skin. 
> 
> Some of the flora I do explain, but it’s probably best to look them up. I wasn’t initially planning on posting this, so I have specific meanings recorded in a notebook, but it’s isn’t a comprehensive list (as things get added as I write and feel are needed). I’d refer the website I’m using, but my computer is... being difficult at the moment and has deleted any reference pages I may have bookmarked amongst other things... That’s also why I can’t guarantee an update timeline at the moment.


End file.
